


Investigation

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-18
Updated: 2011-07-18
Packaged: 2017-10-21 12:34:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/225211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Somehow Terezi isn’t quite as she remembered. It isn’t so much the addition of red glasses and the redder gaze behind them, the real difference is in the slice of her grin. She was always sharp, but now the edge is jagged.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Investigation

Vriska’s face is not what it was. The mascara is mostly scraped off her lashes and litters her cheeks, chafes in her eyes. The blue she so carefully applied has gone from lines to smudges - she can’t see it but she knows - and her lipstick is smeared to a vulgar stain leaving her mouth bare and black. Her face is in tatters. One errant move and she will lose it completely.

Terezi is straddling her with ceremony, the smallest motion an official decree. The weight of her is insignificant but her thighs are a vice around Vriska’s hips and the tip of her cane a pointed threat digging into the underside of her chin. She’s both familiar and new. Vriska has seen this side of her before, just not from the receiving end, but somehow Terezi isn’t quite as she remembered. It isn’t so much the addition of red glasses and the redder gaze behind them, the real difference is in the slice of her grin. She was always sharp, but now the edge is jagged.

“Redglare,” Vriska says, aiming for familiar territory in search of leverage, “what exactly is it you think you’re doing?”

Terezi is silent. All teeth and no words. Vriska squirms, Terezi clamping down on her, keeping her trapped. The pressure on her hipbones intensifies, evolves into pain.

“Seems like mutiny most foul to me. But I don’t know! I could be wrong! So why don’t you tell me?” She means to wait out the answer, but impatience gets the best of her “Redglare!” she snaps, with a little more force than she planned.

At least it gets a response. Terezi grimaces and objects:

“Don’t call me that.”

Though the eye roll is wasted, Vriska can’t help herself.

“Man, I hate when you go out of character.”

“You can’t go out of character if you’re not playing. I already told you, I won’t roleplay with you anymore.”

“What a tragedy, I’m so hurt and wounded!” Vriska huffs. Terezi’s grin is back, unbearably gleeful. It is absolutely enraging and she is well aware. “Except the opposite of that is what’s true and I don’t actually give a crap. So you can get off me and be creepy somewhere else. I have so many important things to do tonight that don’t involve blind creepy creeps and their blind creepy molestation.”

“Nope. You’re all caught up,” Terezi says. “In my investigation.”

“Investigation of what?”

“You. I’m exposing you tonight, you and your stinky schemes.”

Vriska laughs – or she tries. It doesn’t work so well when the rage is rising like bile in her throat.

“Ugh!” she exclaims with emphasis eightfold. “Your justice crap is so boring! And it’s roleplaying, too, by the way, in case you hadn’t noticed. Boring-ass roleplaying for whiny wimps who can’t take the heat, but still roleplaying. I guess you’re just desperate to be involved with me somehow and waist-deep in a slimy puddle of denial about it! Maybe if you had been nicer to me before I would have gone along with this courtshit now for scourge time’s sake, but instead you get to find out what it’s like to be the chump that thinks they’re all having fun and playing a game, but what’s really going on is that everyone else is laughing at them and not playing at all!”

Terezi cackles, an avalanche of porcelain cups breaking against Vriska’s eardrums. She drops her cane, snatching Vriska’s wrists and pinning them. Their faces are close. Her breath is damp and smells powdery, of chalk and artificial scents, and underneath the chemical sweetness is something all her own, something strong and metallic. Before Vriska can decide whether she’s repulsed or intrigued Terezi’s smile widens impossibly, her tongue slithering out from between rows of glistening teeth and descending on her face, lapping at the remains of her makeup. Vriska sputters and yelps, eyes squeezed shut on reflex.

“What the hell?!”

“Just getting a good lick at you,” Terezi says, chuckling, her eyebrows thrashing like two wrigglers in culling throes.

“You’re so fucking disgusting!” Vriska shouts. Spit strings extend like liquid web between her eyelids and she blinks them away furiously. “You know I could make you stop anytime I wanted, fuck the truce and fuck you, Pyrope.”

“Yeah. You could.” Terezi tilts her head. “You won’t, though. I know you won’t, and you know that.”

“You don’t know shit!”

Terezi’s mind is too winding a maze for her powers but there are ways around it for the crafty. Vriska gathers her mind to counter attack, but the sensation of claws raking up her sides makes her gasp and lose her concentration. They travel all over her torso, leaving long scratch marks in their wake. They twist in her shirt until it rips, revealing the plains of her chest to Terezi’s scrutinizing tongue.

She has to catch her breath and force it back into obedience before she can start looking for her voice. It comes out high and uneven, hard to control when she is left flushed and tingling from the sting of tapered fingertips.

“What are you doing _now_?”

“Cutting to the chase.”

Like hell she is.

When Terezi dives in, Vriska has her defenses ready. She smashes their foreheads together, her brain quivering, the world swimming, but through the throbbing haze enveloping her senses she can feel the hold on her wrists loosen. Not minding the velts carved into her as Terezi struggles to remain in control she frees herself with a growl, fist connecting with Terezi’s cheek, knocking off her glasses, her back arching and knees lifting off the floor with the force of the impact. With her balance lost she is easy to topple. Vriska is taller, stronger, better, with luck and robotics on her side. She digs the metal digits into Terezi’s shoulder until the bone creaks, squeezing harder and harder as she slams her down, switching their positions. The need to crush and harm and hurt is overwhelming, Terezi splayed out before her a delirious sight. Vriska longs to see her features contort with fear, watch her scramble to escape, and that feverish anticipation holds back her final blow for a fraction too long. Suddenly, Terezi’s legs are wrapped around her waist, Terezi’s hands are gripping her horns, Terezi is hoisting herself up and then her lips are on Vriska’s, hard and commanding.

It’s a sloppy affair. They don’t line up anywhere. Their noses bump and rub together uncomfortably, fangs clashing and nicking their gums. The flavor of their blending blood makes Terezi moan in thirsty delight and delve deeper into the kiss, sweeping her tongue over the roof of Vriska’s mouth, soaking her up. Fumbling for focus, Vriska retaliates as well as she can, but the grip on her horns is distracting. The pain that pierced through her skull when Terezi first tugged at them has given way to diffuse, flickering pleasure as the hands travelled cunningly to the sensitive base. When Terezi starts pushing at her, grinding her down, she lets it happen, but not without clawing at Terezi’s clothes, rewarded with a shiver every time she tears through the fabric.

Folded into momentary compliance, Vriska takes a moment to breathe and regroup. Terezi fills her field of vision, lean and angular. No curves, only abrupt corners. Skin strung taut over wiry muscle, pointed elbows, narrow hips, the protruding ribs visible through her shredded shirt like a row of razors. She has the gleam of a newly forged blade but there is no snapping her. Bend her and she stretches, chewy and tough, while flaying your palms. Vriska swallows thickly, the iron aftertaste from the kiss still lingering.

The damage she could do to that body. Pull out dark, wispy hair with roots, scalp and all. Sever sinew after sinew until the limbs lie limp in her embrace. Muffle screams with her mouth, gnaw on membranes and moist flesh and withdraw to the sound of gurgling chokes. Part the legs and push inside to spread and curl cruelly, not sparing an inch of slippery softness from pain. Lay her head to rest next to the shattered tip of a jutting, broken collarbone; make a trail of kisses over skin ablaze with bruises and then bite.

She doesn’t do any of those things now. Terezi draws another meandering line of teal saliva from Vriska’s jaw to her opposite earlobe, and Vriska would reach into vulnerable minds, summon an army and make her pay if she could but she can’t, she can’t concentrate, doesn’t want to concentrate, only wants to feel that raspy tongue follow her violently pulsing veins and map her out until it finds treasure.

“Spidertroll,” Terezi croons, “You taste like salty lies and sticky scorn and blueberry murder.”

Vriska scoffs her offense.

“Mean! Mean and totally untrue. I’m delicious and you know it!”

Terezi neither denies nor confirms. Terezi straightens, presiding over her with leisure, not aggression.

This is an opening, Vriska knows one when she sees one, she knows Terezi and she knows this blackness spreading through her, pooling in her abdomen and dripping down her thighs. Her arms stay at her sides and her hips roll up once, involuntarily – or, then again, maybe not. She shakes the hair out of her naked face, meets her own unblinking gaze reflected in the glaring red lenses above.

“So,” she says, drawing out the vowel for eight rapid heartbeats. “Weren’t you about to do something before?”

Terezi grins her jagged grin and cuts to the chase.


End file.
